The Thrush and the Runescar
by Sweet September Storm
Summary: A sorcerous storm boiled on the horizon. It had her worried. She knew the scent of magic in the air, and her memory was good enough - or bad enough - to remind her to whom it belonged. "You're right," she said to the tawny owl perched on her shoulder. "We should warn the king."
1. Part I

**The Thrush & The Runescar**

**Part I**

* * *

At dusk, the tawny owl said there would be clear weather for a week. As the sun rose the next morning, a thrush was blown to the sorceress' window on the winds of the worst thunderstorm she had seen in a decade. Panting and exhausted, his feathery breast heaving and his black eyes shining unnaturally bright, the poor thrush did not so much tap on the shutter as careen into it. At the sound, the sorceress unbolted the shutters, only just managing to catch the small body as he tumbled inside, too weak to use his wings anymore.

"Little brother! What are you doing out in this weather?" she cried, cupping the thrush in one hand and trying to fasten the flapping shutters with the other. Still panting, the thrush looked up at her and spoke in the curious, wordless way that she alone could understand, each of his ruffled feathers its own sentence and the glint in his eye the urgent punctuation.

When she had grasped his message, she fell back to the stool in front of the fire. It was the place she always said she thought best—warmed at her back by a cheery blaze, cozily pressed in upon by the smoke-stained walls hung all over with strings of herbs and slightly scorched iron pots. From the mantle, a very self-satisfied looking cat watched his mistress carefully, wondering whether or not the bird in her hand was meant for his amusement. His honey-colored tail gave one slow swish before he decided that it was not. The expression on his mistress' face told him that now was no time for games.

"You have no doubts?" she said after a long minute of thought. The thrush assured her that he did not. After all, he said, why didn't she look out the window and see for herself?

A little smile that was more than half grimace touched her lips as she did as he suggested. The wind rushed over the two of them as she unfastened the shutter. Cupped in her hand, the thrush nevertheless trembled at the feeling. The sorceress pressed him close to her heart in assurance, then raised her eyes to the oncoming storm. A thin, shrill whistle escaped her lips. The tiny bird was right; she could taste the sorcery on the air. Her house stood on the crest of a wooded hill, facing east and what should have been the rising sun. Behind her rose the stony slopes of the Thorn, westernmost of nine peaks that guarded the Ennuan Valley. By this hour the sun's light was usually well on its way down the sides of the Thorn, but this morning she could only see a dull streak of dead gold flicker against the summit, like the flame of a candle trying desperately not to go out.

Her eyes stinging in the wind, she turned back to the east. There, just above the distant mountain peaks, she could make out a dreary smudge of yellow where the sun was trying to shine through a rent in the clouds. It wasn't having much luck. As she watched, the clouds swirled even thicker, blocking the sun out entirely. Their undersides were heavy, swollen blue and purple, gorged with lightning.

The thrush chirped. With a sigh she uncupped her hands enough for him to peer out over the forest. There had been a question in that chirp as well as a request, and she could not ignore either.

"You're right, little brother. You didn't mistake it."

A soft fluttering and a sudden weight announced the presence of a third observer, but neither she nor the thrush turned to look at the tawny owl now perched on the sorceress' shoulder. The creature hooted sorrowfully once and nipped at her mistress' ear.

"Yes, Ardith. I know you did. But it's no good apologizing _now_," she said, brushing the owl's beak away affectionately but without much enthusiasm. "I suppose you can make it up by coming with me."

The owl's hoot turned at once from sorrow to dismay. Even the little bird in her hands cocked his head curiously at her declaration.

"No, no arguing," she said as she fastened the shutters again. "This is important." She set the thrush on her well-worn table and turned to face the fireplace. A pair of unblinking eyes watched her from the mantle, another from the hearthrug, and another dozen from the pile of rags that served as a bed for a singularly ornery wolfhound bitch and her litter of three-week-old pups. "We must leave as soon as possible. Yarrow," she said, meeting the gaze of the male wolfhound on the hearthrug, "I need you, and Thain and Milla. Will you call them?"

The wolfhound stood and yawned once before he loped to the door, nudging open the latch with his nose and pulling it shut behind him by the leather thong attached to the handle. It was a struggle even for a creature of his size, for the wind had strengthened and was now blowing furiously against the side of the little stone house. After a moment, she heard his plaintive howl rise above the thunder of the storm, carrying her summons to what she hoped were listening ears. A minute later Yarrow was at the door again, woofing softly to be let in. She opened it and shut it firmly behind him, troubled by the sorcerous tang borne on the gale. It was growing stronger.

She began assembling the things she knew she would need for her journey, though her mind was far from rucksacks and spare socks. The scent of magic in the air did not bother her; gods knew how many times the king's weather-workers had tried to break a midsummer drought like this one with their simple homespun charms. Sometimes they succeeded in bringing rain, sometimes not, but none had ever dared call a storm of this magnitude. She scowled, taking her frustration out on a hapless cooking pan whose only failing was that it did not fit easily into her rucksack. An overly ambitious weather-worker would have not disturbed her as much as this did. No, it wasn't the sorcery; it was that fact that it was _familiar_ sorcery. If she remembered right, she didn't particularly like the sorcerer.

Still, there was only one way to know for sure. Whether the storm came from the man she knew or from another, the king would need to be warned. There could be no doubt that whoever was at the heart of the writhing mass of thunderclouds had ill intentions towards the kingdom. It would not take lightning from a natural squall of half this storm's magnitude to spark a fire in the dry leaves of the Ennu trees that filled the valley below.

A bellow from outside announced the arrival of Thain and Milla. They had been swift in answering Yarrow's summons—swifter than usual. She wondered if the stag and his mate were as disturbed by the storm as she was. With a final grimace, she cinched the neck of her rucksack, fastened her boot buckles and swung a traveling cloak over her shoulders. The thrush, who by this time had quite recovered from his earlier distress, gave a sharp chirrup and flew to her hand as he saw her reach for her walking staff. She laughed and gave him a kiss on the head as she transferred him to her shoulder.

"No, little brother. You've already done a great deal of good today. It's time for you to rest. You may stay here as long as you wish, but I can't promise I'll return any time soon."

The thrush eyed the cat on the mantle with obvious suspicion.

"Oh, don't worry; Shasta won't hurt you. No creature is killed under my roof, no matter how small." She gave the cat a stern look to make sure he understood this as well as the thrush did. After a moment, Shasta yawned and glanced away, pretending he had never really been interested in the bird as anything more than a houseguest. "Then I'm guessing you will not be coming with me?" she asked the cat, who answered with a contemptuous flick of his tail. "Of course not."

A wet nose pressed against her free hand, and she looked down to see the wolfhound Yana staring up at her, standing paw-deep in a squirming mass of downy pups. Tempermental as the creature could be, she was fiercely loyal, and her mistress understood the look that Yana was giving her. She bent down to meet the wolfhound's mournful gaze.

"I know, Yana. You needn't apologize. I wouldn't ask you to leave your pups for all the magic the world." Yana lowered her head as her mistress pressed a kiss between her ears. "You are in charge of this house until I return," she told the wolfhound as she stood, "and in exchange, I promise I will bring Yarrow back to you safely."

Yana whined once in understanding, then shepherded her litter back to the pile of rags in the corner. Her mate took his place at his mistress' side with one last longing look at Yana and their pups.

"Oh Yarrow, of course you must say a proper goodbye," she said, to the wolfhound's great relief. He hurried over to the corner, and his mistress turned away to give the family a moment of privacy. It was a moment she sorely needed. There was something she had almost forgotten. "Ardith, would you show your brother here where we keep the seedcakes?" she asked the tawny owl. Ardith gave a melancholy hoot but obeyed, fluttering to join the thrush by the sacks of grain heaped near the fireplace.

Unwatched for a little while, she turned her back to the fire and rolled up her sleeves. There, shining white against the brown, sunburned skin of her wrists, were the two runescars that Leti had given her—was it nearly seven years ago now?—at the beginning of her sworn solitude. Long sleeves usually hid them, but she did not want to take the risk that they might be seen and recognized in the wider world. Instead, she slipped on the pair of wide leather bracelets that she kept in a box above the door lintel.

They were beautifully crafted things, polished to a rich dark brown and jointed to allow for free movement of her hands. Still, as she tightened the straps she could not help but feel that they restricted her in a different way, one that had nothing to do with her physical freedom. The bracelets had been Leti's last gift to her after the runecasting ceremony, and they had come with a solemn warning.

_ "These are protection, Audra, for yourself and for those around you. Do not enter any dwelling of man, no matter how small, without these bound around your runescars. They will save you a great deal of grief."_

The scene was forever emblazoned on her mind's eye, and she remembered every detail. Leti had stood before her at the edge of the ring of stones, on which burned a fire of mulberry logs. He had worn a simple blue robe and was barefoot, his ash blond hair bound against his brow by a thin band of silver. She wore the gray robe of an apprentice, and her black hair fell loose down her back. She too was barefoot. It was dawn, or very close to it; high above them the summit of the mountain Arrow shown black against the blushing sky, which grew more golden every moment. It was the secret valley of the east, the Sorcerer's Vale, where every runemarking in the history of Ennuan sorcery had taken place.

The two of them had come alone, for Leti had already marked his other apprentices and sent them out into the world. All, that is, save Audra. She had always assumed the delay was because she had begun her training so late, for most children were sent to a master sorcerer at five or six. If they had the gift, they continued their studies; if not, they were sent home. At twelve, she had been the oldest beginner by far. Part of her marveled that Leti had taken her on at all. Then again, her father's wishes had carried a great deal of weight, even with a master sorcerer. She was sure he would have sent her all the way to the East of the World if he could, but at her mother's insistence, he had settled for the Vale instead.

The circumstances of her apprenticeship notwithstanding, she had studied hard, the day that Leti at last declared her ready to bear the runescars of a full sorcerer was the happiest day of her life. The actual marking had hurt terribly, but she refused to shed a tear, even when the red-hot rune wand drew blood. Audra remembered the look of pride on her master's face when she refused to flinch away from the brand. But her master's warning had unnerved her more than the pain. She asked him why she would need to bind the leather bracelets on before entering a town. His answer came with a bitter smile. _"What is the name of this rune?"_ he had asked, gently tapping the mark on her left wrist, which, by his own art, was already beginning to heal.

She knew the symbol, of course; her nearly ten years in the apprenticeship of Master Leti had been more than enough to teach her the names of the ancient runemarks. Still, she was cautious of speaking its name aloud, for her time with Leti had also taught her the danger of careless words, both magic and otherwise.

_"Yele,"_ she said at last.

_"What is Yele?"_

_"The rune of cleansing."_

_"And the other?"_

She had swallowed, and when she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper._ "Anem. The rune of destruction."_

_"Quite right. Now, you want to know why I have bound you to these two, when others have been bound with far lesser runemarks, yes?"_

She had admitted that she of Leti's older apprentices had been bound with either _Han_ or _Yon _or _Anet_, runes of fortitude and even-handedness, the traditional runemarks for anyone skilled in magic.

Leti had sighed. It seemed ages before he answered. _"I gave these to you as they have been given to me, Audra,"_ he had said, and with a motion of his hands he removed the glamor that his pupil had never realized was covering the runemarks on his were not dual _Anet-_marks, as she had thought for ten years. They were _Yele _and _Anem_, exactly the same as hers. _"We are keepers of the peace, among both our kind and the common folk, for we hold in the balance two great powers of the sorcerer: cleansing and destroying."_

_"Then why must I wear these, master?"_ she had asked, holding up the leather cuffs. Leti's kindly expression turned sad.

_"Because there will come a time when Yele and Anem must be united to defeat a great enemy."_

_"What enemy?"_

_"I know nothing beyond this: that there will someday rise an enemy of the Ennuan Valley, born from among our own kind. Whether this enemy will come tomorrow or a thousand years from now, I know not, nor did my predecessors. We only know that he or she will come."_

_"Is there a prophecy that speaks of this?"_

_"No, no prophecy. It is only the foresight of wisdom that warns us. We know human nature and we know great power, and in knowing both, who but could anticipate that someone will one day betray their oath in lust for greater power? We who bear Yele and Anem are a safeguard against that traitor in whatever generation they might arise."_

Audra had asked what he meant by uniting the runes.

_"If you were to hold your arms together,"_ Leti said, holding his own a few inches apart in what she recognized as the spell-casting stance for the most potent magicks, _"and Yele and Anem were to touch, they would ignite your powers as a flame ignites oil. The result would be ruin and destruction for any within a wolf's howl of the place you stood, and you yourself would be cast down."_

_"I would die?"_

He had pressed his lips together in a tight line and not answered for a long moment. When he did, his voice was quiet. _"I pray not. But you would no longer be a sorceress, for your power would be used up in this one great act of destruction and cleansing."_ She had no response then, save only to stare at the runemarks, stung by the weight of responsibility that her master had suddenly put on her. He must have understood her reaction very well, for when he spoke again, Leti's had taken on a more compassionate tone. _"Don't worry, Audra. You might live out all the long years of a sorcerer and never find the need for such a sacrifice arise."_

_"And if I don't? How will I know this enemy?_

_"You will know. One does not mistake the sorcerer who has broken their vows. Their corruption is written on their face, and no magic can hide it. If you find yourself one day in that position, you will know what needs to be done."_

Audra had learned enough in her decade under Leti's tutelage to know that he spoke the truth, and she was glad of his reassurance. But one question remained, and it troubled her more than anything else. _"Master, why me? You have had many fine apprentices, and doubtless you will have many more. I'm neither the most skilled nor the most powerful."_ She recalled some of the others she had studied with—Erren and his sister Arras with their silver tongues, Lissa and her earth-speaking skills, glowering Gedren and his love of fire, even the silent, brooding young Hethe with his mighty spells of illusion. Magically, each of them was worth ten of her, who had only an innate understanding of ways of wild creatures._ "Why would you trust me with this?"_

Leti had remained silent for a long time before he answered, turning away from Audra to watch the sun's light break over the valley wall. His face, which for all his uncountable years was as hard and smooth as a young man's, had held an expression of immeasurable sadness. The first birds of the day had begun their morning song by the time he spoke. _"I shall not have any more apprentices, Audra. You are the last."_

_"What? Why?"_

_"Ennuan has no more need for master sorcerers. I must find a new place in the world."_

_"But you are Master Leti!"_ She spread her hands to encompass the secret vale, with its silent Ennu groves and whispering waterfalls, its sacred shade and bright sunlight._ "You belong here."_

Leti had sighed. _"Once, perhaps, but no longer. Besides, you bear the runescars of a full sorcerer, Audra. I am no longer your master." _He had looked at her then, looked her full in the face, and it seemed to Audra that he was seeing her truly for the first time. She opened her mouth to speak, but he would not let her. _"No, please. Do not try to sway me; I've made my decision. It is my time to walk a new path in this world, and yours is set out before you." _He had stepped forward and taken her hands in his, as if to inspect again the healing wounds. But his eyes did not leave hers. _"You bear Yele and Anem for one very simply reason: I have given you something that I can give no other, and if I trust you with that, then I will trust you with anything."_

Audra remembered how her heart had taken on a strange new rhythm at his confession. _"What have you given me?"_

He did not answer. Instead, he leaned in close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. _"Remember these,"_ he had said. With that, he vanished, leaving Audra in stunned silence, holding the only bracelets in her newly scarred hands.

That day she had left the Sorcerer's Vale. Instead of returning home, Audra wandered west, from the Arrow to the slopes of the Thorn, where she found a place that echoed strangely of the secret eastern valley. To the eye it looked very different, but the shade and the silence were the same, and that was enough for her. There she built her house; there she befriended the creatures of the forest and the mountain; there she lived for seven years pondering what, besides the leather bracelets and the runescars, Leti had given her.

Audra shook her head, dispelling the memories. Leti was gone, and she would never know.

She checked the straps on the bracelets once more to assure herself that they were secure, then replaced the box above the lintel. She wondered she would ever take it out again. For seven years she had not set foot in a town, and so had never felt the need to wear the bracelets. Now, as she had told Yana, she felt no reassurance that she would be returning any time soon.

The soft touch of Yarrow's nose against her hand roused her from her reverie. "Yes, yes, you're right. We'd best be going. Goodbye Yana, Shasta, pups." The thrush, hearing her farewell, fluttered in alarm from the sacks of seedcakes to join Ardith on Audra's shoulder. Audra laughed gently. "I'm sorry, little brother, but I've already told you: you must stay. Yarrow can run beside Thain and Milla, and Ardith can fly. You, my friend, would die of exhaustion long before we reached the castle."

The bird cheeped sadly, his feathers drooping as he saw her determination to make him stay.

Audra offered her finger, which he hopped onto without much zeal. Again she kissed his head. "I wish your wings were as big as your heart, little brother! I will miss you." With that she placed him on windowsill and opened the door, admitting a ferocious draught, which swirled up her final words of parting and swallowed them before even the thrush could make them out.


	2. Part II

**Part II**

* * *

Thain and Milla were waiting for them, their heads bent against the wind and the bits of dry leaves that were beginning to mix with the gale. Audra had to wrap her cloak tightly around her waist and tuck the ends into her belt, lest it drag her backwards. On her shoulder, Ardith buried her head into her mistress' hair to keep the wind from tearing at her feathers. Even so, Audra managed a sufficiently deep bow to greet her friends, the lord and lady of the Thorn herd.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Thain, Milla."

Milla extended one leg and returned her bow, asking at the same time if her summons had something to do with the storm. Audra replied that it did. Thain wondered if he had read the signs aright. _Is it indeed sorcerous in origin?_

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Audra informed him, noting the alarm that shot through both his and Milla's faces at the news. "And I doubt there are benevolent intentions behind it. There is no rain, and far too much lightning. It will not take much for the forest to catch alight."

_Was it not possible,_ Milla asked, _that it was a young sorcerer who had summoned magicks too great for his or her strength, and not one who wished the kingdom ill?_

Audra wished more than believed that the doe was right. She hoped that it was only a handful of troubled memories that had resurfaced and clouded her senses, telling her that the source of the storm was someone she had long since thought dead. But every instinct she possessed, both magical and otherwise, told her that that was not the case. So she merely shrugged. "Of course it's possible, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous. The king needs to be warned. Will you take me to the castle?"

_Gladly,_ Thain said, kneeling. Audra climbed on his back and buried her fingers in the heavy pelt to keep from sliding off. It had been a long time since she had ridden one of the great deer, but for such an errand as this she figured that stubbornness as much as strength would be more than sufficient to keep her on the stag's broad back. Nevertheless, Thain rose easily, and Audra marveled how little a burden she seemed to be to the powerful creature.

Milla was less easy. _I am not expected to bear your friend, am I?_ she asked Audra with a pointed look at Yarrow, who stood with fur bristling at Thain's side. The suspicion that fueled the eternal feud between wolfhound and deer was mitigated by Audra's presence, but it was not entirely absent. Audra shook her head.

"No, no, there is no need for that," she said quickly. "Yarrow wishes to run."

_Yes, and you ought to tell your antlered friend to be grateful,_ Yarrow muttered with an arch look and tilt of his head. _I am not much in the hunting mood today._ Audra silently scolded him. She knew he spoke in jest, but she was still glad that Milla and Thain were strangers to the subtleties of wolfspeak. There was a rogue weather-worker at large in the kingdom and the king needed to know. There was no time to deal with old rivalries.

"And speaking of running, we'd best be on our way," Audra said as a low peal of thunder rolled towards them from the east.

Thain's only answer was to raise his head and bellow his defiance to the cloud-choked sky before he set off, followed by Milla, Yarrow and Ardith, who had discovered, much to her satisfaction, that her wings were strong enough to make headway against the storm.

Together the five of them hurtled down the slope of the Thorn, the click of hooves and the crunch of paws on scree and the beat of wings all but drowned out by the wind that washed over them. Soon the rocky landscape gave way to thin pine groves, the first arms of the forest that straggled up from the valley floor to reach for the summit of the Thorn. Pine needles and dry leaves took the place of broken stone and climbing lichen, and before long they passed beyond the borders of the mountain altogether.

At first Audra worried that Thain would need help finding the castle, for she knew she would make a poor navigator. It had been a long time since she had visited the royal city, longer even than she had lived on the slopes of the Thorn. But both the stag and his mate seemed to know their way. They ran surefooted through bush and bramble, thicket and meadowland, stopping only once to drink at a mossy stream. Audra dismounted to stretch her sore limbs and fill her waterskin, glad that the trees around them had tempered the worst of the storm.

Even so, that was little comfort. The sky grew darker by the minute, giving noon the feeling of dusk. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed soon after by the deep peals of thunder. Bending over the banks of the stream to fill her skin, she was alarmed to see how thin was the trickle that ran at the bottom of the stony watercourse. The summer's drought had either taken a greater toll than she had anticipated, or something else was helping to parch the valley. She remounted Thain and urged him to hurry. As far as she could see, what was left of the stream flowed into the valley from the east.

It was an hour or so before sundown when they passed the first human dwelling. Neither Thain nor Milla stopped to greet the farmhand who was leading his cows in out of the storm, but Audra caught his look of amazement. For the first time since she had decided to leave the mountain, she began to wonder how the people of the valley would look on her when she arrived at the castle. Audra knew as well as the astonished farmhand that she was no longer one of them.

This thought kept her occupied until the castle came into view, which was sooner than Audra had anticipated. It was built as everything else in the Ennuan kingdom was built: as one with the forest that sustained its people. There were no clearings, only stone walls piled between the massive boles of the slow-growing Ennu trees, or sometimes built up of the trees themselves. The capital itself was less a city and more of a collection of houses and farms that happened to be within a few bowshots of the castle. Thus, Audra and her companions had followed the dusty earthen thoroughfare that was the royal road for no more than half a league before the western wall of the castle rose up to block their path. They had arrived.

Their arrival did not go unmarked. Audra had scarcely dismounted before a cry went up from the wall. She glanced up; a man in green livery sat in a high branch directly above the gate. With one hand he held on to the tree; with the other he had aimed a crossbow bolt at her heart. Her companions reacted at once. Yarrow growled at her side and Ardith tensed on her shoulder, ready to fly with talons outstretched into the man's face at the first sign from her mistress. Even Thain lowered his antlers a little as Milla prepared to lash out with her hooves, each expecting a fight. Audra alone gave no reaction, save to raise her hands above her head.

"I am a friend of the king," she shouted, hoping that the sentry could hear her above the wind. As the words left her mouth, she realized that they were the first words she had spoken to another human being in seven years.

"You are a sorceress," he replied. It was a statement, but Audra understood what it implied. After all, even magic-folk did not often keep the company of so many wild creatures. She was something new. The sentry clearly thought that that was enough to make her dangerous.

She made no attempt to deny it. "Yes, I am."

His shouts and her responses had alerted several other guards, and one by one a number of green-helmed heads peered over the wall to see the self-proclaimed sorceress.

"What is your business here?" the first man asked.

"I have an urgent message for the king."

"What is it?"

"For the _king_, sir, not for you. Please be good enough to let me through." She took a deep breath. "I'm…"

"Lady Audra?" a new voice interjected, this one from behind the portcullis. Audra dropped her gaze. The shadow of the gate prevented her from making out his features, but the cut of his cloak and the shape of his helm was enough to tell her who the man was. She made a faint curtsy, her knee cracking at the unfamiliar motion. She had not had to curtsy since she was twelve.

"Captain Trembough."

"Is it really you?"

"As you see, sir."

The captain made a motion with his hand and the portcullis began to rise. Before it cleared his head, he ducked underneath and hurried out to meet her, making a point of stopping just beyond what would have been convenient striking distance for Thain's needle-sharp antlers. "By all the great gods!" he cried, his face lighting up as he recognized her. "It _is_ you!"

At his reaction, Audra felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. The plan had seemed so simple back on the slopes of the Thorn. She would ride to the castle, warn the king and set off again to find the errant sorcerer. She had not taken into account what her appearance might mean to the king and the rest of the common folk—not as a sorceress, but as herself. Surrounded by animals, her hair unkempt and windblown within an inch of its life, dressed in her homespun rags, she must be a sight to behold. Audra curtsied again to disguise the color that spread over her cheeks.

"Is the king here, Trembough? I really must speak with him."

The captain motioned her forward, his smile fading. "Yes, yes. He's here." He glanced up at the sky, which, though it was seething and boiling with clouds, had yet to produce a single drop of rain. Audra could see Trembough put her sudden appearance together with the approach of the storm and work out what it was she had to tell the king. "Please, come."

Audra did as he said, but not before she silently invited Thain and Milla to join them, and received their polite refusal. They said they preferred to wait in the forest nearby. Audra released them with her sincere thanks, and promised to call on them again if they were needed. With that the two deer raced away into the shadow of the trees. Audra realized that it was a great sign of respect to her that Yarrow followed them with his eyes for no more than a few seconds before joining her in the inner courtyard of the castle. Ardith came as well, perched on Audra's shoulder and enjoying a well-deserved rest from flying.

Trembough had the tact not to question the presence of the owl and the wolfhound as he led Audra through the tree-filled courtyard and into the castle proper. He made a valiant attempt at engaging her in small talk as they past an increasing number of startled-looking guards, servants and lesser nobles, but Audra's answers soon trailed off into silence. The sight of the familiar vine-wrapped walls, the Ennu trunks supporting the galleries and the living beams of oak that stretched across the hallways were overwhelming, bringing back memories that Audra had not even realized she had forgotten. She had to call on all her strength to keep the tears from her eyes.

By the time Trembough had exhausted the last of his speculations on how glad the king would be to see her, they had arrived at the door to the throne room. A young man, bareheaded and dressed in the green-and-gold livery of the king, stood guard in front of it, the blade of his naked sword resting on one shoulder. He started and snapped to attention at the sight of the captain of the guard.

"At ease, my good man," Trembough assured him. "We are here to see the king."

The door-guard looked uneasily at Audra and her wild companions. For a moment Audra though he might deny them entry, but after another second's hesitation he stood aside. Trembough thanked him and pushed open the doors himself.

At first glance, the room seemed unchanged. It was round, surrounded on all sides by the trunks of eleven immense Ennu trees. As a child, Audra remembered reading stories of the planting of the trees, which were said to be older than the mountains. Before the creation of mankind, the gods had debated among themselves as to where on the earth their crowning creation should be born. Some said one place, others another, until the wisest of them suggested that they put the decision in the hands of the eldest god of all. So they each plucked a seed from the Eternal Tree and placed them in the hands of the immortal crone Fate. Clutching them to her withered breast, the crone hobbled to the edge of heaven. All the gods followed her, each of them bragging that their seed would prove the most fertile. But when Fate cast the seeds out into womb of the young earth, they landed in a perfect circle in the West of the World. None were favored and none were excluded, thus humbling the gods and setting them back on the great work of their creation.

Audra did not know if the story was true, but it was certain that the trees had always impressed her with the most profound sense of _rightness_. It was said that the first men and women were formed from fallen leaves within the ring of that holy grove. As long as the Eleven Ennu trees of the Ennuan Valley stood proud and strong around the throne of the king, Audra was sure that all would somehow be well in the world.

Thousands of years ago, master woodworkers had begun weaving a living tapestry of young branches and flowering vines between the Ennu trunks, and throughout the years it had grown into a wall more intricate and beautiful than any human hand could have carved. The floor was earthen and the ceiling was only the intermingled leaves of the Ennu trees, which, as Audra had thought for the longest time, was the most stunning inconvenience any sovereign could ask for. When the sun shone, it allowed a circle of light to fall on the throne, leaving the rest of the room in an ever-shifting, leafy sort of twilight.

There was no sun today, but Audra's eyes still went at once to the throne. It was crafted from a twelfth Ennu tree, younger than the others but still massive. Generations of kings and queens had lengthened the groove that rose up the north side of the trunk, carving a new seat when the throne grew too tall for them. Besides that, the Thronetree was unadorned, save for the vines that often wandered up its other three sides.

The king sat on that throne now, his elbow on his knee and his hand on his chin. In the other hand he clutched an elaborate wooden staff. He frowned as a man with drooping gray mustaches whispered something in his ear, and the lines that creased his brow looked both deep and worrisome. But those lines soon smoothed into a look of pure wonderment as he saw the woman that Trembough was ushering into the throne room. With a cry he silenced the man at his side.

"_Audra!_ Is that really you?"

Audra took a few steps forward and sank onto one knee as Ardith flew to Yarrow's shoulder. Audra reassured her companion with a gentle pat on the head; the owl was a conscientious creature, and she felt ill at ease perching at the same height as the king. "Your Majesty," Audra said, keeping her eyes bent to the ground, not wishing to see him stand.

"Tut, up off the floor with you!" the king cried, struggling to his feet. His left leg was twisted and of little use to him, and he leaned heavily on the staff for support. A fall from the Thronetree when he was a boy had shattered it, and the silent sisters could not get it to heal straight. Audra hated the sight of the misshapen limb, for it reminded her of every word she had said to egg him on that day, daring him to climb what they both knew was forbidden. The old king had blamed her for the fall; Audrain had not. After seventeen years, she still wasn't sure with whom she sided.

Nevertheless, Audrain welcomed her with genuine pleasure. The sight of the wolfhound and the tawny owl did not give him pause. "None of that, if you please." He put a hand on Audra's shoulder and looked into her face, as if searching for an answer to his unspoken question. She gave nothing away save a smile. Yielding to her desire for secrecy, the king embraced her. "My dear sister."

"Hello, brother. It's good to see you."

"Likewise," he said, releasing her. "Great gods, you haven't aged a day since I last saw you!"

Audra made a face. Her brother had made the difficult journey to see her in the Sorcerer's Vale only once, one year before she received her runescars. He came to inform her of the queen's death, followed shortly thereafter by the king's. _Fellfever,_ he had said. The two had passed within a fortnight of each other. On the eve of the next new moon, her brother had been crowned king, and the following day he rode out to the Vale to tell her. Audra wondered if he remembered that day when he looked at her, or if he remembered another. She tried to laugh off his words. "As you _have,_ Audrain. Goodness, is that gray in your beard?"

The king ran one hand over his chin, where the hair did in fact grow both black and white. He shrugged. "Ah, yes. Ruling will do that to you. But tell me," he pressed, "why are you here? It's been a long time. Far too long, Audra," he said, and she heard a faint echo of accusation in his words.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Are you…?"

Audra held up her wrist and slid down the leather bracelet just enough for the king to see not the _Yele_-mark that was actually there, but the appearance of a _Yon_-mark that she had cast over the runescar. "Seven years ago." She replaced the bracelet before the mustachioed advisor could see what she had showed him. "Father would have been proud to have a sorceress in the family," she said, feeling a twinge of bitterness creep into her voice.

"But why didn't you come _home_, Audra? After father passed. I watched for you, you know."

Audra dropped her gaze. "There were…things…that needed to be cared for, brother. I'm sorry," she said again, knowing it was a weak excuse. The king did not press his sister, though she could see that he was desperate to know more. She quickly changed the subject. "Audrain, what have your weather-workers said about this storm?"

The king frowned. His hand fell from his sister's shoulder. "Walk with me," he said, and Audra followed him as he began hobbling around the perimeter of the throne room. "You know, as soon as I heard the thunder this morning, I had the strangest feeling that you would be coming back to us, though I fear you will not be staying." Audra did not say anything, and the king continued. "Let me guess. It's not a natural storm."

Audra shook her head, trailing her fingers idly along the boles of the Ennu trees as they passed them. "There's no rain. There should be more rain and less lightning."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I confess the lightning has had me worried. It's been too dry here."

"When is the last time it rained?" Audra asked.

"More than a month ago." Audra whistled. "Can you do anything about it?" the king tried after a moment.

His sister thought hard before she answered, and even then it was with a shrug. "I don't know. Weather-working is not my specialty." She paused again and weighed her words carefully. "But I think—I don't know—but I _think_ I might recognize the sorcery."

"Oh?"

"The casting, the charms used…they leave a familiar scent on the wind," she explained. "It's that that I recognize."

"I take it by your hesitance that this sorcerer is not a friend of the kingdom?" the king asked.

"I haven't the faintest idea what his motivations might be, brother," Audra lied. "Though based on what we've seen so far, I think it may be prudent to think of him as an enemy, and act accordingly."

Audrain sighed. "Very well. What would you have me do?"

Audra paused, one palm pressed against the smooth silvery bark of the eleventh Ennu tree, the one the legends said was offered to Fate by the god of life and death. She grieved silently that her return to what was left of her family would be so brief and so bittersweet, but there could be no helping it. Her path was not at her brother's side, and never had been. Audrain had seen truly; the storm brought her back to him, and it would sunder them again just as quickly. There was no use in prolonging their second parting.

"Gather your weather-workers and anyone else who knows how to wield a charm. I'll teach them the proper summons for rain. In the meantime, everyone else should prepare the things they might need to fight fire in case the worst should happen. Vats of water, damp blankets, and clear the driest brush away from the base of the trees. Beyond that, there's nothing you can do but wait and pray."

"And you? What will you do?"

Audra met the king's eye and spoke dully. She knew she was pronouncing her own doom. "I'm going to find the sorcerer."


	3. Part III

**Part III**

* * *

Audrain knew better than to protest. He bowed his head. "I will not hold you back. But please, Audra, allow me to send an escort for your protection. Trembough or Haubark or—"

She turned to face him. "No, brother. I must do this alone. It would be your men who would need my protection before the end, and I will not risk their lives."

The king placed a hand on her shoulder, his face grave. "I honor your courage, sister, yet I cannot see you leave empty-handed. Ask whatever you need of me, and I'll see that you get it. Do you need provisions? A mount? Armor? Weapons?"

Audra shook her head once, then paused. Her destination was three days of hard riding on horseback as the thrush flies, but she knew Thain and Milla were faster than even the swiftest steed in the king's stables. She also had no fear of hunger, for she knew how to live off the land. Still, her brother's offer revived memories of childhood, and of a relic from their past that might prove useful in her quest. "Yes, actually. There is one thing I need."

"Name it."

"Mother's sword."

Audrain started. "Are you…?"

"I don't know. I can only prepare for the worst," she said. And it was true. The sword of their mother Audria was both precious and dangerous, an ancient heirloom of the Royal House of Ennuan. It had been ensorcelled by Arbeth the Wise, first and fairest of the master sorcerers sworn to protect the West of the World. Though she had lived more than five thousand years ago, the sword was as sharp and stainless as the day she had forged it. Handed down from mother to daughter, only a maiden of the Royal House could wield Arbeth's sword, for the sword would not suffer the touch of anyone whose heart was not set solely on the protection of the realm.

It was said that the blade could cut through any flesh, whether it belonged to man, beast, or sorcerer. Their mother had borne the sword as Royal Guardian for the seven years of her betrothal to the king, and the day of her wedding had relinquished it into the keep of the silent sisters of the Second Sacred Grove. Audra, who would have received the sword and title of Royal Guardian the day she became a woman, had been sent to the Sorcerer's Vale before it could be passed to her.

"I will see you to the Grove myself," the king said. "The sisters will give you the sword. Is there anything else?"

Audra shook her head. "Thank you, brother. I have all I need." _I hope,_ she added to herself, glancing upward as a ferocious peal of thunder shook the ground. _We will see soon enough._

Audrain took her arm. "Then we mustn't tarry."

The same book of legends that told of the planting of the Eleven Ennu trees described the later sowing of the Sacred Groves, the stately copse of younger Ennu trees that stood at each of the four points of the compass around the royal city. They were holy places, tended by the silent priestesses sworn to service of the king and of the realm. It was to the Second Grove, the East Grove, that Audra's brother took her while Yarrow and Ardith waited patiently on the grassy clearing that separated the Grove from the rest of the city.

On the rooted threshold of the Grove the Crone of the Wood, the Crone of the Water and the Crone of the Wind greeted them. Audrain introduced his sister to the ancient women in a whisper, each of whom looked Audra up and down, their whiskery mouths pursed in deep suspicion. After a moment they turned away and held a silent debate among themselves, speaking only with the twist of their gnarled fingers and the flash of their piercing black eyes. Audra, who understood all kinds of wordless speech, gathered that they were trying to determine two things—first, whether or not she was truly of royal blood and not some strange sorceress who had assumed the appearance of the lost princess, and second, whether or not she was truly a maiden.

In answer to the latter she stepped forward, adding her own gestures and flashing eyes to the silent conversation. _Honored sisters, I swear by all the gods that no man has ever touched me. My heart is and always has been devoted solely to the protection of this kingdom and its people._

Their fingers stilled and their eyes bent to hers. The eldest, the Crone of the Wind, hobbled closer and peered up at the sorceress out of cloudy eyes. _You are that princess who left her family, her people and her place in the kingdom to study in the Sorcerer's Vale fifteen years ago?_

Audra felt the accusation in her gaze and bowed her head. _It was seventeen years ago that I last set foot in this city, Honored Sister. _

_The same that did not return when her royal father was dying of the swelling sickness?_

_My father died of fellfever._

_And you had not the courtesy to bid him farewell in his journey Beyond-the-World? He missed you terribly when you left for the Vale._

Audra straightened, feeling old bitterness rise like bile in her throat. _My father was glad to see me go._

The Crone's eyes twinkled. _'Tis a sad truth, but a truth nonetheless. You are indeed the sister of our king. _She made a motion to the other two, who shuffled off to the tree called Eastmost, where the sword of Arbeth was kept. _We knew you would come to us someday, child. For long years you have suffered silently in great loneliness and grief, but you have continued along the path of your destiny without faltering. _She took Audra's hand in her own. It was dry and withered as an old leaf. For a moment Audra stiffened as the Crone's fingers brushed her runescars; concealed as they were beneath the leather bracelets, she could still feel the old woman's cool, wrinkled skin against her wrist. Audra knew that the Crone was not fooled by the glamor she had cast over the _Anem_-mark.

_You know what it is I bear, Honored Sister? _Audra asked.

_Yes, I know. It is a burden that should never have fallen to you, but the gods are merciful. They have made you strong, and you will bear it well until the end._

_The end? Then you know what I face?_

The Crone shook her head once and pointed to the boughs of the trees above them, which were tossing in the storm-wind. _We see only the pattern of shadows and light in the play of the leaves, child. We know you go to face an enemy, and we know he is powerful. We also believe that you can defeat him._

_Believe, Honored Sister? _Audra's heart fell. _Not know?_

_There is no pattern that tells us what happens after today. We cannot know; we only trust._ The Crone of the Wind patted her hand once and released her as the other sisters approached with the sword._ Your mother the queen was a wise Guardian and a good woman. We believe you are deserving of her namesake, Audra of the Thorn._ With shaking arms she took the sword from her fellow Crones and presented it to Audra. _Use it well._

Audra bowed as she accepted the weapon. It was heavier than it looked, beautiful in its scabbard of green leather, with gold wire and a single emerald embedded in the hilt. She drew it out a few inches to inspect the blade. Her mother had spoken truly; it was indeed as keen and stainless as the day it was forged. The edge, against which she had to fight the temptation to run her finger along, was sharper than anything—sharper even than the words her father had thrown at her when he had found her beneath the Thronetree all those years ago, weeping over her brother's broken body.

Audra slid the sword back into its sheath and buckled the belt around her waist. _Thank you, Honored Sisters, _she told the Crones, curtsying to each. _I will return it to you when my task is accomplished. _

The Crone of the Wind raised a hand in parting as Audra turned to leave. _Farewell, Audria's daughter. Ride swiftly, fight bravely, and may the blessing of all the gods be on you._ Her hand fell to her side, and there, if Audra had paused a moment to see it, trembled one final warning: _Child, beware._ _He is not who you think he is._

The weather-workers that Trembough had gathered in the courtyard of the castle were as twitchy as wide-eyed rabbits, their gaze constantly turning upwards to the roiling clouds above. The sudden appearance of the king and his sorceress sister did little to help the mood, for it was then that even the most lighthearted among them realized that they had been summoned for serious business. What chatter there was died down as Audra climbed atop a stump and addressed them all.

"Friends, I don't know what Captain Trembough has told you to bring you here, but I trust you've begun to understand that this is no ordinary storm." As if to punctuate her words, a thunderous crash shook the tree trunks and set the poor weather-workers back to eying the sky. "There is a powerful sorcerer at work behind it, and we'll need your help to defeat his purposes. We—"

"My lady?" one man near the front worked up the courage to interrupt. He plucked off his cap and came forward when Audra motioned for him to continue. "Begging your pardon, Highness, but I'm afeared you've summoned the wrong bunch. I know a few spells for mendin' pots and herding cattle, no more. My mum's sister taught me, but she tweren't more than a woodwife." There were murmurs of agreement among the rest. "What can we do against a sorcerer?"

Audra looked around the group. "Who here is a weather-worker?" she asked. A half dozen raised their hands. The rest studied their shoes.

Trembough leaned close to explain. "I gathered all who could wield a charm, Lady Audra, as you ordered"

She sighed. "As I ordered indeed. I only thought there would be more."

"Should I send for more from around the Valley?" the king asked, hobbling over to join the two.

"No, brother. There isn't time. This'll have to do." She raised her voice. "Friends, I know that you're not sorcerers or learned magicians. That's not important. It's as much your courage as your skill that will combat the maker of this storm." Audra stepped down from the stump and moved to the center of the crowd, motioning for the men and women to gather around her. "I'll teach you the proper incantation for rain." The weather-workers watched as she performed the spell, then tried it themselves. No rain came, but Audra was encouraged as the scent of malevolent sorcery on the wind grew a very little bit less in the presence of their simple, honest efforts.

When she was satisfied that even the slowest of them had mastered the basics, she ordered the men and women to spread themselves out throughout the city and begin calling the rain. They obeyed, and Audra noted a small but determined gleam shining in their eyes as they walked past her. Before there had been only fear. She smiled at the sight, hoping to encourage that gleam to brighten into true bravery.

They would need it.

Audra kept smiling until the last man hurried out of the courtyard. Then her smile wavered and she slumped to the ground. Trembough and the king were at her side in an instant.

"Audra! Are you all right?"

"Highness, what's wrong?"

She pushed herself to her knees and took a few deep breaths. The spell she had silently woven to bolster her people's courage was not an easy one, and it had weakened her more than she anticipated. But it had done its job and given them heart; never mind what it had taken it out of her. Seizing Trembough's offered arm for support, she levered herself to her feet. "I'm fine. Trembough, Audrain—really, I'm all right," she lied, tightening the sword belt around her waist. "Just nerves, I suppose. It's time for me to leave."

By the expressions on the men's faces she gathered they did not believe her, but both understood her need for urgency and did not press her for an explanation. Trembough released her arm and bowed. "Then I will bid you farewell, Highness, though I pray we'll see you again," he said. "But before you leave tell me what else I can do."

"Position the guards around the castle walls with buckets of water and hatchets. If lightning strikes, they must be ready to fight a fire." Again he bowed, then hurried off to do as she said. Audra turned to her brother. "Audrain, I'm sorry—" She stopped. There was a great deal she was sorry for, but she could not find the right words. Instead, she took his hand and kissed it. "Your rule will be the best Valley has ever known. I'm only sorry I've missed so much of it. Goodbye, brother."

"Goodbye, Audra. And good luck."

Before he could see the tears in her eyes, Audra turned and headed for the castle gate, Yarrow and Ardith at her side once again. None of the guards at the gate gave her a moment's pause, ushering her through without protest. Audra could feel their wondering eyes fixed on her as she greeted Thain and Milla, who had sensed her approach and were waiting in front of the gates when she emerged.

_Goodbye indeed, _she thought as she leapt onto the great stag's back, and swifter than an arrow from the string, they sprang off into the gathering dark.


End file.
